The Glee Project
by OhSoVeryLovely
Summary: It's a brand new year at Mckinley with a brand new set of students. Follow the characters of The Glee Project through the trials and tribulations of high school as they try to restore the Glee Club to its former glory.


Damian looks down at the crinkled piece of paper that is supposed to be map of Mckinley High, but is in fact now just a smudged mass of inky squares thanks to him dropping it in a puddle on his way to school. Something Damian is pretty surprised to see anyway, due to him just expecting all American weather to be like the weather in California. Who knew Ohio had rain? But either way it now made it pretty difficult for him to find the front office.

"Maxfield – isn't it nice to be back in high school instead of in juvie, honey?"

"Delightful, Miss Pillsbury." A boy with a cowboy hat perched on a head of unkempt red hair is being escorted down the hall in handcuffs, while a lady, presumably the counselor walks beside him. Damian quickly figures that they are heading for the front office, and tries to be as inconspicuous as a new kid can be walking behind them. He follows them into the reception area which he is pretty sure shouldn't have so many people in it this early in the morning.

A line of kids sit on chairs around the office. One kid is spitting blood and has two black eyes, another, a girl wearing knee high boots, is sat flicking through a US weekly, a boy whose feet don't ever reach the floor stares into space dejectedly. That and the cowboy in handcuffs seriously start to freak him out. Damian is suddenly unsure he's even in the right school…he knew he should have got two copies of that map.

"Excuse me, are you a transfer?" a blonde girl with a crazy wide smile asks as she furiously attacks a stack of paper with a stapler.

"Um…I guess…"

"Oh, well I'm Shanna, the student body president, the president of the school newspaper and the president of the celibacy club…you are?"

Damian stares at her and attempts to think of something clever to say but the only thing he was ever president of back in Ireland was the Corleggy Cheese eating competition. "…I'm Damian…from Ireland."

"Well Damian from Ireland," she smiles but it looks kind of forced, "Lucky for you I'm here to get you to the front of the queue."

It soon becomes apparent that her way of getting him to the front of the queue is basically just barging the handcuffed cowboy out the way and talking louder than everyone else in the room. The girl in knee high boots sniggers behind them.

"Thank you Shanna for that wonderful introduction," the secretary says with a completely straight face, "but Mrs Pillsbury just told me that she has a whole ton of self help pamphlets that need to be sorted in her office so…"

"She does?"

The secretary nods vigorously as Shanna runs out the office in search of the self help leaflets and Damian is pretty sure he sees the secretary roll her eyes. "Right now _that's _done with, how can I help you Damian?"

"I'm, uh, a transfer student from Ireland." He's suddenly aware that his voice, bad enough in its usual Irish brogue, sounds like a drunk homeless Irish guy with no teeth. Maybe it's the fact that he's suddenly surrounded by Americans that his accent sounds so much worse.

The secretary looks confused for a moment before smiling as she connects the dots of what he's just said together. "Ireland, wow…I guess you'll be wanting your schedule then. I knew I had it here somewhere. Ah, here we are. Your homeroom is in room 121, with…" she crinkles her nose, "_Sue Sylvester_. Since when has she had a homeroom? Shows how much I know."

"Ha you got Sylvester," The handcuffed cowboy laughs. Damian raises his eyebrows as the warning bell goes off. What the hell has he got himself into?

* * *

"Haven't you heard? Gingers haven't got souls."

"Haha, very funny Hoffmann," Hannah says, rolling her eyes, "Your insults just get more and more original."

The hockey player laughs and tries to think of another insult, given by the weird spaced out face he pulls. "Your so fa-"

"-I wouldn't do that if I were you," Hannah cuts in.

"And why the hell not?"

"Because I might run you over," Ali, Hannah's friend, well pretty much Hannah's only friend quips. She spins the wheels on her wheelchair threateningly (or at least as threateningly as a person in a wheelchair can) and he wanders off down the hall, murmuring expletives.

"Ali, girl, you should become a superhero, saving the lives of Mckinley rejects everywhere!" Hannah says taking books out of her locker - Calculus, Geometry and Physics - she mentally groans…worst subjects in the history of the world.

"I do what I can to help my fellow Lima losers."

"Yeah, well not even you can save me now. You'll never guess who I've got for homeroom this year. It is too horrible to even say aloud." The blonde looks at her questionably, and it's in moments like these where Hannah is reminded how much Ali looks like a younger version of Dolly Parton just without the big hair... and you know, in a wheelchair. "Okay, Ali, you twisted my arm. It's Sue Sylvester."

Ali chokes, presumably on her own spit. "_Sue Sylvester_. Since when has she had a homeroom?"

"I know!"

"Wait…if you don't make it out alive can I have your laptop. It's just so pretty and pink and sparkly."

Hannah rolls her eyes at Ali's quick distraction into the world of all things pink and glittery. "Sure you can have my laptop, but _rest assured_ I will not be beaten by Sylvester."

"Wait – so I can't have your laptop?"

Hannah just giggles and walks to homeroom, she figures she might as well try and get a seat at the back - not that'll she'll be any less seen - Sylvester has eyes like a hawk. She passes the bulletin board when her attention is soon taken by a sign up sheet: The Glee Club. She pauses. So far no one has signed up, (excluding the 'person' called Hugh G. Rection) however there are a couple of pretty impressive drawings of the male anatomy. In fact some are so good you have to give the drawer some respect, clearly they have mastered the art of drawing genitalia.

Hannah thinks that it will be a perfect way to expand her social horizons, and after all what has she got to lose? She's always thought she's a pretty awesome singer in the shower. Quickly she scrawls her name and walks away before she changes her mind.

* * *

Lindsay takes a deep breath.

"Lindsay, you know how much I admire you. After all you _are_ like a younger version of me, although ultimately with slightly shorter legs and without a stare that can make babies cry - you should probably improve on that, by the way. So you can understand why I'm making you head of the Cheerio's and why Tanisha," Sue glares at an Asian girl crying in the corner, "has been demoted to bottom of the pyramid." She starts to speak loudly and slowly as if she is talking to a foreigner. "Do…you…understand…me…Tanisha?"

Tanisha sobs loudly and runs out of Sue's office. Lindsay tries not to look at her. This cool, detached face of hers is something she has mastered over time. "Right now that's sorted; I have kids to torment and a homeroom to run. See you at practise Lindsay; hopefully your legs will have grown a little longer by then."

Lindsay sighs as she follows Sue. No one ever told her that being popular would be so difficult, least of all having to be perfect as well. How the hell did _Regina George_ ever manage it? She checks her long, dark, slightly curled hair in the reflection of a window. Flawless.

"Girl, I knew it. You got head cheerleader didn't you?" Emily, Lindsay's best friend since freshman year (They had bonded over the fact that they were both incredibly dorky but shared a dream of someday being popular) says. She waves away the boy who had been carrying her books just minutes before and squeals. "Hey, does that mean I'm like second in command or something because if I'm lower than that bitch Alyssa in the pyramid I think I just might have to kill myself in shame – or kill her – either way works pretty well."

"Uh, huh." Lindsay murmurs, her eyes focusing on the bulletin board behind Emily's head. While being head Cheerio, head of the drama club and president of the Environmental club, there are always more clubs to be the best at, at least according to Lindsay's mom. All Lindsay's ever wanted to do is make her parents happy. Glee club could be the answer. "Hey, Emily, Haven't you got that thing to be at."

"What, Bryce in the janitor's closet?"

"No," Lindsay rolls her eyes dramatically, "Like, homeroom." Emily's eyes widen and she stalks off, her dark pony tail swinging behind her. The hall is mostly empty now; excluding the odd lost freshman, so the coast is clear and Lindsay signs her name underneath some guy called Cameron Mitchell, in letters so small even Lindsay herself struggles to read them.

"Whoa, isn't this a development. Turns out Lindsay Pearce has a thing for show tunes." Lindsay turns to see a moody looking boy with dreadlocks slouching against the wall. She has never seen this guy before in her life; turns out he's seen her.

"And you are…"

* * *

Marissa is seriously starting to worry that she has a coffee addiction. And not just your normal, run of the mill, Starbucks coffee but the kind of weird coffee you find in small bohemian stores nobody knows about – the kind of coffee that could potentially by fatally poisonous. She writes 'STOP DRINKING COFEE' on her arm to remind herself to curb the addiction, but along with 'TRY TO ACT NORMAL' and 'SMILE', both also on her arm, it will probably go on ignored.

"Marissa, you have some paint on your face." Marissa looks up from her masterpiece (or abstract art as she likes to call it) startled to hear somebody talking to her; she's kind of used to being alone. Her older brother Maxfield stares at her in a way that quickly assures her that he is indeed stoned, drugs being the reason he'd been thrown in juvie the year before, and the reason why he's repeating his senior year _again_.

"Max, shouldn't you be doing something, you know, like school. I'm pretty sure there's a limit on the amount of times you can repeat senior year."

"Sister dearest, you worry too much," he drawls, sprawling across a desk, "shouldn't _you_ be doing something. You can't hide out in the art studio forever."

She wipes at the green paint splodge on her face with the back of her hand. "I can try." He wrinkles his nose and lights a cigarette to Marissa's annoyance. "Ew, do you know how much of a fire hazard that cancer stick is? Can you not go and smoke with the other delinquents under the bleachers or something?"

Maxfield just smiles because he knows his sister isn't truly as annoyed as she pretends to be. "_Will_ was asking about you the other day."

"_Will_, as in quarterback, _Will Barnes_," she puts on a fan girl voice and rolls her eyes, "Please…"

"Look, Marissa, because I'm your older brother and I'm meant to look out for you, I think I should be the one to tell you that you can't keep hiding away from everyone your entire life." Marissa tries to suppress a giggle; Maxfield has always had the most terrible habit of becoming all philosophical and sentimental when on drugs. "You are not half as ugly as you try to make yourself out to be."

"Uh, huh, and because I'm your younger sister, I think I should be the one to tell you that you can't keep messing around with drugs your whole life. Eventually you'll have to stop or you'll die."

He chuckles. "Touché, sister. Touché."

* * *

"Hey kids, now aren't you guy's lucky, you get me for homeroom for the _entire_ year! An entire year of all you young miscreants finding out who you are whilst living with precariously low self esteem, and an entire year of me getting to watch as all your sad little adolescent lives collapse around you. Now doesn't it sound fun, kids?"

The entire room is silent. Cameron is pretty sure the guy next to him is holding his breath, if the fact that his lips slowly turning blue can be used as any indication. He's also pretty sure he's having a mental panic attack.

Sue Sylvester is _scary_.

"Is she always like this?" Cameron turns to see a dark haired boy who is strangely smiling given the circumstances on his other side. Clearly a new kid. Nobody smiles like that if they've been at Mckinley longer than a day.

"Pretty much, but just be thankful you're not a cheerleader, they have it so much worse than the rest of us normal people. I'm Cameron by the way."

"Damian, from Ireland." They shake hands as discreetly as someone can, given that Sue is eyeing everyone in the room up like prey she can't wait to verbally abuse. Her eyes focus on Hannah, Cameron's neighbour and his kind of friend, who is staring out the window.

"What you looking at, carrot cake, is a doughnut flying around out there?"

Everybody in the room winces apart from Tiffany, your typical brainless blonde cheerio who says in disbelief, "Doughnuts can fly?"

Welcome to Mckinley High.

* * *

**This is purely based on a random idea I had while watching the glee project and is completely fiction...please don't sue me! It won't contain any of the original characters off glee (except Will Schuester) and it should hopefully end up including all the characters from both series of The Glee Project. There will be a couple of OC's but not too many and some of the characters might come off completely differently to how the people were on the show (I.e. Maxfield) but it was pretty fun to interpret how all the characters might have been had they actually been on Glee. **

**Hope you like it :) **


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